


Home

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22735897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: An AU wherein Gibbs went back into the military after Shannon and Kelly were killed and he finds Jack and gets her away from Hakim instead of Leon.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 132
Kudos: 230





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Big shout out to Coolbyrne for keeping me on track with this one.

She reminded him less of a person and more of a feral cat when he found her, already spitting and scratching and he imagined that if she had made a sound outside of some grunting that it would be akin to a vitriolic hissing.

Her scratching had near instantly found his jaw, aiming for his helmet strap just before she gave up and tried gouging his eyes instead. An exasperated shriek came up between them when she found he was wearing goggles and he felt her grasp at them for leverage then pull.

It wasn't until after he'd caught his hand between her wrists to shove her off that he realized her hands were bound together.

A caged hellcat, then... No wonder she was ready to rip his goddamn face off.

"American? Yes? Look at me." His gloved right hand caught at the rope that kept her wrists tangled together, jerking on it once to draw her attention, causing her to yelp. "Stop fucking slapping me. Are you - "

"Lieutenant Sloane," she snapped back, suddenly seeming taller and more vicious and he could hear a city in her tone of voice, he just couldn't place it. Not New York, not Boston. Maybe… maybe someplace smaller. Someplace familiar. "Army 4th, 3rd Battalion."

"Special Forces?"

Brown eyes went wide black and blown out as he swung her slightly toward what miniscule light filtered into their crowded little hole. "Psy Ops."

"How long?" he asked, using his other hand to stop her frame still, his glove catching against grimey fabric. He slowly drew her hands down between them, his movement careful when another yelp rose up her throat. She quickly ducked her head down once again, shading her eyes from the light.

"Dunno. Months? September." _September_ … Eight, nine months? Nine months she'd been buried in a dark hole and tortured, beaten, God knew what else. He bit back against the instinctive protective rise of rage that lifted his shoulders, forcing himself still as she inched back slightly. "Marine?"

"I'm leaving your hands - "

"Don't!" she pressed forward as he stepped back. He'd been trying to ease her nervousness by letting her go but the release of his hands triggered a palpable fear between them and he dug his boot heels into the packed floor.

Gibbs lifted his palms up between them, wincing with apology. "I don't _trust_ you, Army 4th."

"Just… don't leave me here?"

"Sarge?! You clear?"

A hiss finally scrabbled its way up her throat at the interruption but it was fully made of fear rather than aggression. Her hands grasped at him, still twisted together but catching the edge of his vest, tugging them together. " _Please_?"

If he'd learned anything in his career, it was to trust the first twinge of intuition, the first tug at his gut. Even when nothing really made sense…

"Yeah! We're coming up!" he shouted back, prying her fingers from his vest and watching pain shatter over her in pieces as she yelped and then drew her hands back. It was her fingers, her hands or wrists, something broken and not set, not healing.

"Out in two minutes, Patterson. Get Kelb clear."

She finally let him see the full roundness of bloodshot brown eyes and his gut clenched in agreement with his hands as they pulled her closer and toward the opposite end of the room. The little light they had showed the bruised face, the split open lip, the dried blood and dirt and gritted spit. She was a busted up mess with beautiful brown eyes and fear cast immobile over her face.

"Let's get you home, Lieutenant."

***

She never once asked him to loosen the bindings around her wrists on the trip back to their temporary encampment. She just let the transport jostle her obviously battered body closer to his, all of her energy seeming to puddle at her bare and grubby feet.

 _Jesus_ … they'd even taken her boots from her.

"Seventeen minutes out, Chief."

"Plenty of time," he murmured in answer, lifting a glance forward to where Kelb was staring blindly forward, still silent in the front passenger seat. He noted that both of them had been stripped and given local clothing, nondescript and blank in color. He didn't even want to contemplate how that had transpired for either of them.

"Master Sergeant?"

He flinched at the way she whispered his rank against his sleeve patch. After a hard swallow he nodded, feeling her face press closer as they both avoided the glances of the rest of the team. "Gibbs, Team Chief. Kelb is Team Leader."

"He's not okay," she mumbled, shaking her head but not moving her body otherwise.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but neither of you seem ‘okay’ at the moment." He watched Baker lean forward with bottled water after speaking and he felt her instantly shudder backwards, her whole body jerking back as her heels scrabbled against the floor.

Gibbs reached up and caught the bottle still, pulling it from the other man's hand. He gave the young Staff Sergeant a nod of appreciation, his features calm and softened and his movements slow as he lowered the bottle toward her.

"S'okay, Lieutenant," he assured quietly. "Just water."

"No."

"Don't trust it?" Gibbs asked quietly and to the side, bringing his voice low and just for her alone as he offered the water closer.

She twisted nearer to him in response, burying her face in his sleeve again. "No."

"I wouldn't trust a drink from Baker, either."

***

He hadn't been surprised by her distrust of the other men. He was a little bit thrown by the fact she seemed to trust _him_ more but he'd seen it before, with other extractions. It was usually the young ones that clung so close. Seeing her in more light had given him more understanding of how desperate a situation they had come upon, though.

She was dirty, bloody, broken… But all that didn't stop her from putting a sharp knee to Patterson's balls when he reached to grab her and lead her, along with Kelb, to their CO.

Shit, he'd never seen Gabriel ' _Son-of-a-Three-Star'_ Patterson crumple to his knees so goddamn fast.

Gibbs shouldered himself between the two as quickly as possible, keeping his hands up and palms defensively open. "Easy, Wildcat. _Relax_."

She pulled back, her eyes pinned and dark as she swung her glance between him and the other men. "Where am I going?"

"Just to get your hands looked at, Lieutenant. All good? Maybe get ya cleaned up a little?" He didn't expect her to show him any trust. He would have been suspicious if she had.

Instead she just warily watched him while contempt flared her nostrils and drew her lips back slightly. Her breathing hissed slowly, lowering her shoulders as she relaxed. Gibbs just kept his palms open and drawn upward and away. He nodded forward and motioned her ahead of him.

"Your Captain never told them anything," she offered in what he could only imagine was a peace offering.

"I appreciate you telling me but I was already pretty sure of that. Bet we can say the same for you, huh?"

He took her complete silence as an affirmative.


	2. Two

"She's going straight to Germany after we get her cleaned up, per CENTCOM."

"You sure she's prepared for that?"

She wasn't, not in the least. It was a lot of jumbled travel and no comfort, no sustained care until she got back home. They had pulled her out of the hell-hole they'd gotten her shoved into and just planned to toss her onto a bureaucratic conveyer belt to nowhere.

"We can't do anything for her here, Gibbs. We can't help her."

Which he knew, but the comfort of the familiar had to mean something… "I just think it's a bad idea to move her too far, too fast. She's gonna break. Where's Kelb?"

"With the medics. He's out tomorrow, too," the Colonel nodded before cocking his jaw, a brow up, questioning. "The boys said she only had eyes for you. If you think she's a danger…?"

"I think I just pulled her out of the hole she's been tortured in since last year. She's clingy." Which wasn't a surprise to either of them. They'd seen it before, felt the prying of fingers and heard each desperate plea to not be left alone or sent back. It was impossible to ignore, just like each empty glazed look he got when he told someone they were going home - as though they'd almost forgotten the sound of the word itself. "The Captain is just as busted up as she is, sir."

"They'll both go to Landstuhl and then home, Team Leader."

The new team rank caught his head up in surprise, had him focusing hard on the other man's half hidden smirk. "Yes, sir."

***

"It's just a couple more flights and then home, Lieutenant."

"Jack," she murmured, her body curled forward and slumped on the edge of the stretcher and eyes on her feet. Someone had found a fresh pair of boots and set them to the ground. They clearly had her attention but something was stalling her still, something was keeping her from pulling them on.

Gibbs noted the rolled socks in her lap, looking up to find her half damp blonde hair waved clean and drying over her shoulders but hiding half her face. "Who's Jack?"

"Jacqueline," she answered softly, hands shifting slightly and drawing his attention. It was just a jerk in each of her forearms really, her fingers reflexively curling farther inward as she said her own name.

He wondered how long it had been since she'd said it. Since _anyone_ had…

Her palms were up and fingers half curled closed, makeshift braces on both her wrists as they rested against the tops of her thighs. Someone had gotten her into a clean pair of BDUs too, the sleeves too big but shoved up her forearms in folds. She was pale, even against the desert camo pattern, almost more gray than anything.

"You outrank me, _Lieutenant_ ," he teased softly, making himself move slowly as he bent and grabbed at the boots, tugging them up by the laces. They were pre-laced and tight and he mentally cursed the soldier that had dropped a pair of laced up boots in front of a woman with both her hands in braces.

Jack just barely turned her head towards him, watching as he dumped the boots beside her. He started loosening the left boot first, keeping his hands busy and unthreatening. He could see the steep line of her jaw, its cool sharpness more visible when clean.

"They'll discharge me." She spoke almost as a question as she turned her head and that same accent that he couldn't place was more evident when she was quiet and gentle.

Gibbs tugged the lace loose rhythmically, unconscious of the movements as he bent down to place the half open boot to the floor. "Not necessarily."

"I'm compromised."

She wasn't wrong. The woman had a big damn red flag on her file now, no way to take it back. Maybe if her imprisonment had only been a few days, a week… But nine months? Hell, that was John Walker Lindh territory. She was about to be under the full weight of the United States Army's suspicion and scrutiny. In a post 9/11 world? _Shit_ , he didn't envy her, not even for the chance at a clean break from active duty.

"You really want back in?" Gibbs asked quietly, using both hands to loosen the lace on the second boot.

"No," she murmured, the shrug in her shoulders drawing her farther inward on herself. "I don't think so."

He didn't blame her…

***

He was very obviously not happy about being tagged as babysitter and she felt sorry for it, feeling a frown on her dry face as she wedged back deeper in the jump seat. She didn't blame him for not wanting to leave an active combat zone, not when he was very obviously damn good at his job.

Still, watching him gently interact with the Captain who was seated on the other side of him gave her a real clue as to why he was still at her side while they were in the air and halfway to Landstuhl.

Jack let her eyes shut as she listened to the rumble of the plane and the drone of their voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying, just the hummed sound of them talking to each other.

A familiar sound but at least this time it was someone safe, someone on her side.

At least this time the accent was distinctly American.

"Easy, LT." He swung his head her way, his fingers catching hers and squeezing lightly to reassure the way she'd unconsciously reached out. "Just a bumpy ride, that's all."

It hadn't been the turbulence that had jarred her. The sway, the weightless rise and fall of the plane hadn't been what had triggered the reflex to grab against him.

It had been the memory of another man's voice that had put the empty space in her stomach.

"Sorry." She forced herself to pull her hand away, curling her fingers into a fist as she drew it into her lap and then balled it against her stomach. Jack focused on the rumble of the plane, the white noise and vibration just loud enough to almost block the whisper that was still humming just behind her left ear. "He really didn't tell them anything. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Gibbs sighed to her right and she turned her jaw, just barely angling her head toward him. It was only a breath later before he spoke. "Your defense of him is admirable, Lieutenant. Still."

"Defend him yourself, Gibbs. He's been through hell."

He heard that Hell in the emotional vacancy of her voice. At least that's what it looked like when he swung her a nod and met her eyes.

"I will." The words sounded like a promise and he sounded like a man who didn't make promises lightly. "Who's gonna defend you, Sloane?"

There hadn't been anyone left, not after she'd lost her boys.

So she'd just assumed she would have to keep on taking care of herself. "I'll manage."

***

Nowhere felt safe, no place was secure to her, not when she was still having trouble sleeping. Not when her nightmares were really just the midnight mental replay of her memories, narrated by that quiet voice, that rasping English accent.

She kept shuddering and shivering herself awake, clothed in sweat and chilled by it. Her wrists ached despite the fact her doctor had declared them healed. Her back burned all day, every day, the only part of her body that wasn't doused with cold.

She kept waking to that voice, that accent, the way it promised to stop the pain if she would just tell what it wanted to know.

Waking always just reminded her of what had happened after she had refused.

And the best sense of comfort she had managed to find was while driving outside the city, late at night and alone in her used car. She'd wished she could have found a stick shift, something with a clutch, something she could really _drive_.

The sporty little two door had been the best she could do. It had nimbly cut its way quickly through the dark Southern California night, railing the corners twenty or thirty miles per hour faster than it should.

***

He kept a burn phone in his gear and she was one of a small handful of people who knew the number. It was some little plastic thing that one of the USO groups had handed out and the only reason it still had any time left on it was because she paid for more whenever Mike didn't. Between the two of them it stayed current and when he had downtime and signal, he found himself listening to the voicemails they left with a half smirk on his face and sadness sitting on the back of his tongue, threatening to block him from breathing.

Mike's calls were sporadic, random, usually when the old codger was half in a bottle. Dirty limericks, articles from the nearest newspaper, baseball highlights…

She called once a week, almost always. At least until the voicemail got full up and she started texting instead.

She never talked about herself. Only about the weather, the city, the sun, heat, and water. Never therapy, not anymore, not the doctors. She still sounded long sad, hollow even when she tried to sound happy. Still, there was enough affection in the depth of her tone for his lips to twitch on a grin each time she laughed or teased.

And her texts always just ended up reading _'You okay, Gibbs?'_

Took swallowing the fear _and_ the pride to get one of the boys to teach him how to text back.

_'OK LT.'_


	3. Three

The first time he saw her stateside was eleven months after he'd found her. He'd been given four days leave and he'd planned to drink his way straight through the first two of them and sleep through the rest.

She looked… _Goddamn it._

She paced, prowled, stalked the front gate like that now cageless Hellcat. Her heeled boots took her back and forth along the sidewalk south of the gatehouse, one arm curled around herself and the other hand up, fingertips tapping unconsciously along her bottom lip.

Civilian dress looked good on her, jeans snug but long down her legs and perfectly cut to ride over her boots. She had a tight creamy sweater on under a light colored leather jacket, her hair picking up both colors and catching the Southern California sun in its waves.

She was more beautiful than he remembered, more at ease than he expected, even if she was all just jumbled up energy.

She wasn't family and he hadn't expected her so of course she hadn't been able to make it past the first gate. He still recognized her as soon as they passed the guards, sent a quick shot whistle through the air that jerked her head up fast.

_Damn_ …

Baker was one step back to his left as they left the gate and didn't even seem to recognize her. The younger Marine flicked a quick glance of approval between the two of them and smirked, further proving that he had absolutely no damn clue who she was.

"Lieutenant Sloane," Gibbs offered gently, before acknowledging the younger man as Baker clipped against his elbow and nodded his goodbye. He flashed the kid a real smile and nod before turning his head back her way, grazing a glance full down the front of her for what felt like the first time. He had never let himself look at her like a woman, only as another 'brother'. His half-assed salute was more exhausted than lazy but he didn't think she'd mind either way. He didn't have to salute her at all, really. "Ma'am."

"Got my DD214 in my pocket, soldier. You keep that salute to yourself."

And she had never, _never_ , used that teasing tone of voice with him. It had cinnamon heat and home-style comfort to it as she drew one shoulder up and smiled. If she'd winked at him he woulda hit his fucking knees and prayed.

She was nothing of what he had expected but still _all_ the same woman.

"You really keep it in your pocket?"

"No, not really," she disregarded with a laugh, both arms closing around herself nervously. Her features went gentle despite how anxious she seemed, all the fidgeting falling from her body as she studied his face and struck still. "You haven't slept in months, have you?"

He wasn't sure he could lie to her? Wasn't sure he wanted to? Why would he?

"Pretty tired," he readily admitted, letting his smile drift wider as her concern made her eyes go more amber in the sunlight. "Could stand a drink, though."

Her eyes were on his mouth and his smirk went smug, making her near blush when she looked up to meet his glance. Her cheeks turned pink and her laugh light. " _Damn_ , Gibbs."

"I wasn't implying - "

"No, I just forgot what those eyes could do to a girl," she continued with another laugh. "You waiting for anyone else, Marine?"

The question was said with a lilt of teasing, more playful than he expected. Sexier than expected, especially when she addressed him by 'Marine'.

He was stunned, really. He hadn't expected to have such a visceral reaction to seeing her again. "Those poor kids don't wanna see my face for the next four days, trust me. 'Papa Gibbs' is a real son of a bitch in-country."

"I meant… I meant another woman, Gibbs." Jack smiled, more in her own bemusement. "Or a man. I don't judge."

"No, I'm alone." Admitting it sounded hollow, no matter how quietly he'd said it. The smile it seemed to draw from her was comforting, though, both pleased and shy at once.

"So it's okay I came?" she asked gently, turning and aiming her hand toward the parking lot. He took her lead, stepping in the direction where she had waved, assuming she would get him wherever he needed to go.

"Depends," Gibbs said with a shrug, tugging his pack higher up on his shoulder as he turned her a sleepy smirk. "You buyin'?".

***

A four day leave turned into eleven and he saw her every few days. Didn't matter if it was lunch, a late walk, or her just having a beer with him while he tinkered with his dad's old beater.

He definitely liked that she knew her way around an oil pan and that she didn't mind laying flat on her back on a piece of half dented cardboard while he changed the filter.

"How's therapy?" he asked, taking the cordless shop light she handed his way and shifting it farther up the length of the engine. He felt grit under his arm as he set it angled up in the direction of where he was working.

"Do you have to be that asshole?"

Gibbs snorted, bemused by the utter sass in her tone, that frustrated sigh she huffed past her lips. "It's a legitimate question, Lieutenant."

"You _are_ that asshole," she told him succinctly, turning her cheek flat to cardboard and catching his attention. "Therapy is… empty space. I know the confines of the box that I'm supposed to put all my problems into and I know they're not gonna fit, so…"

"You're a shrink, Jack. You know - "

"I'm _compromised_. And _triggered_. And I have anger management issues." So much of her answer was thick with disdain, quietly and bitterly made. There was still rage slicking through her blood, boiling it hotter as she frowned. "Can't you just be…"

"Be what?"

"Safe," she huffed out, staring upward and directly into the guts of the engine. He couldn't see her hands from the prone angle but he imagined her fingers were balled up at her sides. Or pressed against her stomach… She had a habit, he'd noticed.

Gibbs exhaled slowly. "Can be more than just that, though."

"I know." She sounded downright smug, really. That surprised but amused him and he turned his jaw down toward his shoulder to watch her.

Somehow she'd managed to paint a thin streak of grease from the side of her nose to just under her right eye and he could rightfully swear to anyone that the day she smirked at him from under a 426 Hemi engine was the very first day he ever seriously considered sleeping with her, saw it happening in his head.

She smirked and he could almost feel her hair brush against his cheek.

_Cute little shit_... despite the trauma and the transference and the near year that had passed between them…

"I don't know how to talk about it. All my training and I still can't just… talk."

"It's why I do what I do," he admitted, hands lifting to dig back into the engine block. "I don't talk about things either."

_Things. People. Death_. Why would anyone willingly want to rehash their live action nightmares?

Talking wouldn't ever bring them back anyhow...

***

He knew she wouldn't go to Pendleton to say goodbye, especially when she asked him to meet her at Mission Beach the night before. He knew she wouldn't willingly watch him leave, not in uniform and flying outta Miramar, destination undisclosed.

"Still too many people here, huh?"

He didn't mind as much as she did, though he wouldn't have hated having her to himself. "Why here if you hate the crowd? We could just - "

"I wanted somewhere special. Somewhere… memorable." She stopped their momentum just by slowing her steps and reaching sideways to touch against his forearm. He didn't reach back, not yet. He was still tentative when it came to touching her, even after a year. "I dunno when I'll see you again. If ever?"

"You'll see me."

"Yeah?" Her smile was broad and bright and infectious under the boardwalk string lights. For a minute, he felt like he was in a movie, watching her shake her hair out of her face and then wrangle it back with one hand, all under the glow of cheap false lighting. "You think so?"

"Why tonight? Why not tomorrow at Pendleton?" he questioned softly, head tipping to watch as she tucked her hands up into her long sleeves. It was the first time he noticed the breeze off the water.

"I don't wanna say goodbye," she confided, tucking in closer to his side. He felt her hand catch up under his elbow, brushing his forearm, and he made room for her to reach through between his arm and ribs. "Figured that was obvious."

"If we'd met in a different way," he added, assuming that's where she would end up in the conversation. Her nerves seem to abate a little as she curled her hand on his arm, bringing them together as they kept walking. "Or maybe - "

"Maybe," Jack repeated as an interruption, her head turned closer to his. "Yes."

She said it softly but with so much assurance that he smiled, blinking into it as she snugged up against his side.

Gibbs slowed their steps intentionally, enjoying the full heated press of her presence against him. "Gonna keep calling?"

"Gonna call me back someday?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded evenly, his certainty supported by the way he paused them, really forcing her to face him more than before. "Patterson taught me how to text you back. He's the only one who knows it's you."

"Then they _all_ know." Jack rolled her eyes as her empty hand rose, the backs of her fingers rapping against his chest in punctuation. "Hell, Baker knew, Gibbs."

" _Jethro_."

He wasn't sure why he had corrected her so suddenly, so stridently. He wasn't sure why he wanted the intimacy of his name on her lips but he suddenly swayed closer at the thought of _anything_ of his on those lips. Brown eyes blinked, wide but gentle and kind and he was so pleased to see that most of the fear that had been hiding behind her eyes had been drawn out.

Their year had been emotionally kinder on him, he was sure - and that was saying something considering which one of them had spent the long months in a war zone. But she'd come out of it stronger and cleaner and brighter than he'd expected and he was proud of her for it.

"Not yet," she whispered, angling herself all up the front of him as she denied one intimacy by offering another. He accepted the shift, the whole length of her setting his skin humming hot and he was suddenly thankful for the breeze off the water. "Not yet, okay?"

She laid one hand to his chest and tipped her hips at an angle to match his and he felt such a deep tug in his gut (and lower) that he gripped her into his chest, watched her face for a reaction. The first one he got was a satisfied smile, just shy of sultry.

She was so different from the woman he had met but… Same eyes, though. Same searching way of looking over his face as she curled her fingers up in his shirt and dug him closer. He fingered the skin of her wrist, rubbed where there'd once been frayed rope ties and bloodied up gashes, bruises.

"Okay, Marine?" she asked, seeming worried, scared he would step away. She was still that same soldier, desperately grabbing him to keep him from leaving her in a deep hole. "Just - "

"Yeah, okay," he whispered with a nod, a half smile rising as he upped his jaw. "All right."

"Come home?" she requested as she pulled them tight, rising on her toes to lock them together. Gibbs buried his face between her neck and shoulder, letting the full softness of her hair finally brush his cheeks and lips and eyelids as he squeezed her close. Her whole body arched beneath the pressure of his arms around her as he nodded in answer.

"Yeah?" Her head turned enough to angle their mouths nearer and he hooked himself still instead of kissing her. Her lips brushed the corner of his tired smirk in reward, answering his restraint with a whisper. "Promise?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured back, feeling his smile grow wider just before she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

A moan melted off her lips onto his and he tasted the spiced heat of it as she turned in to kiss him entirely, tongue along his and arms curling his shoulders. He kissed her slowly and for as long as she let him, both hands claiming her closer while he teased her tongue with his own.

His mouth broke from hers when she suddenly laughed and cuddled her face downward, tucking under his jaw as he exhaled. He memorized as much of her as he could in that moment, noting exactly where and how she fit into him.

"Sorry."

He shrugged as he breathed in the smell of her shampoo and gripped against her shirt. "I'm not."

***

"How was vacation, Sarge?"

"You wipe that shit eatin' smirk off your face," Gibbs told the tallest member of his team, watching Baker's grin just go even wider in answer. Contrary son of a bitch. Didn't matter that he hadn't touched her beyond their kiss the night before, a hug goodbye. Her very existence was fodder for teasing from his boys, most especially Baker. "You knew it was Sloane?"

Patterson moved up beside them, doubling up his steps to get into the conversation. He was grinning just nearly as broadly as his teammate. "She's a hard one to forget, Pops."

"Not helping yourself, Gabe. I seem to remember she's got a scope on your delicates."

"Hey, that's why we like her," Baker tossed back into the conversation as Gibbs handed his pack up into the truck they'd been assigned. "How she doin'?"

"Well as can be expected."

"Sarge got a girlfriend?" the new kid asked and he panned the twenty year old a glare, blinking slowly as he stared the young man down in non-reply. He purposely put a little flex in his jaw and had to bite back against laughter when Patterson smacked the kid in the back of the head on his way by him and into the cab.

"Moron. Don't ask the Sergeant about his lady."

"'Specially the Lieutenant," Baker added softly.

"Isn't that against the regs?" he heard Kress ask them both, low and to the side and likely in avoidance of another Gibbsian glare.

"She's not active, dipshit." Patterson, with attitude.

"She was an Army doc. Sweet. And feisty." And Baker, with affection.

"Wasn't bein' sweet when she put a knee in my balls."

"She's not a topic of discussion," he inserted sternly after the both of them, interrupting their light hazing of the new guy. "Grab your gear and move your asses before I move them for you. That understood, Kress?"

"Yes, sir."

He lifted a hand in Baker's direction before he turned his head, "And what did I just say about that smirk?"

Ruben Baker just grinned even wider, dark eyes full of laughter. And the last time he'd had a smile that big he had left open ketchup packets in Patterson's boots. "Yessir."


	4. Four

His next three extractions went perfectly, clean ops and no injuries. Just the way he liked them. The younger kid was learning by just shutting his mouth and doing and that earned him respect. Gibbs couldn't help but like him for that alone.

"Hey, Sarge?"

"Yeah?" Gibbs answered without looking up at first, digging through his pack as it rested between his feet. After a moment he lifted his head, realizing Kress wasn't going to continue until he did.

Worried blue eyes met his and the younger man shrugged, very obviously embarrassed. "When can I call my wife? Is it okay yet?"

"You haven't called since we left California?" Gibbs asked, tone surprised but quiet, personal.

Hell, the perpetual twelve year old even had a _wife_? He'd had no idea.

"No, I wasn't sure - "

He interrupted the response with a quick wave and then reached back into his bag, pulling the cheap phone from the inside pocket. "Take this over there and call your wife, Jeff. The call out numbers are taped to the back."

"Thank you, sir."

He watched the twenty year old with a half sad smirk on his face, relaxing farther on the creaky cot that stood in for a bed and shaking his head. The rest of the team was out goofing off with one of the other units and he just savored the quiet moment of private silence their combined distraction gave him.

He instantly thought of her.

And then he instantly thought of _having_ her. Physically and emotionally, personally and publicly, sexually, possessively…

More than an ocean between them, a couple fucking landmasses, and the first thing to get up in his head when he finally had a half goddamn second to himself was how good her hair had smelled up close.

Guilt near instantly crashed him cold all the way from his head to his boots.

He exhaled slowly, watching relief flood his subordinate's face across the bunks as he spoke on the phone. He was instantly jealous, could taste it along his tongue as he swallowed.

He knew that was exactly what his face likely looked like when he called her, too. " _Fuck_."

***

"Hey, you okay?"

"Philadelphia," he answered abruptly, almost impatient. "Am I right?"

He felt her laugh just as much as he heard it, the muscles in the back of his neck tightening up at the sound of it. Gibbs relaxed into the comfort of hearing her breathy laughter over the cell line, shutting his eyes as his empty hand scruffed against his neck and down to his shoulder. He itched against his collar as he waited for confirmation. He couldn't be wrong…

"In the suburbs, yeah." The sway of affection in her voice was unexpectedly comforting to him, soothing. "Your turn."

"Stillwater. Few hours from Philly."

"I thought maybe. You sound like home."

He felt the proverbial gut punch those words gave him and swallowed the groan that had started up his throat. She couldn't say shit like that, not when he'd spent months remembering exactly where her hands had fallen against him as he'd held her. " _Jack_."

" _What_?" she laughed, actually more innocent than anything. She wasn't teasing, hadn't needed to, not to stir him up. Just her voice and the implication that something of him held the comfort of _home_. "What's wrong?"

"Don't know how to say," he grumbled, hearing his voice go more shy than expected. He immediately frowned at himself, despite the small sound of encouragement she made in her throat an answer.

His silence brought on a laugh that was made all of pleasure, nothing of disdain. His conversational uneasiness obviously had her smitten, bemused. "One word in front of another, Gibbs. Spit it out."

"Can't stop thinkin' about you."

" _Oh_ ," she responded quickly, sounding shocked while softened. He hadn't even been sure he'd get the words out so he didn't blame her blatant surprise. "That's… I mean, unexpected."

"Bullshit," he shot back. The welcoming heat at the end of her answer had been curved upward by a smile and had called her out on it. "You're a beautiful woman, Jack. More than just that."

The pause was gentle as she sighed. He purposely didn't fill the quiet, waiting to see what her answer would be, if she'd meet his honesty with her own.

"But after what happened I'm not… I'm spoiled for anything long term, Gibbs. Not yet, anyhow. Plus, I mean… I'm pretty damaged goods. You know what they did."

What _they_ did… Jesus.

He'd seen a fraction of what they'd done while in Germany and not by accident. He'd made himself look, forced himself into the hospital room after one of the other doctors had asked how they'd treated the lacerations that covered her back.

The only answer he'd had was to walk into her crisply sterilized room and let her dig her frayed nails into his forearm while they numbed and cleaned the wounds that he hadn't even realized were there. Seventy hours in and not once had she even intimated that her back had been flayed by her captors.

She had been curled on her side, facing him, watching him hawkishly for a reaction. He'd never given her one besides a blank, _"You shoulda told me."_

_"I don't trust you yet."_

He still wondered exactly how much of her trust he had earned since that day. Hell, he still wondered what else they'd done to her those nine months before.

"Got plenty scars of my own," he responded, unconsciously shaking his head and rubbing his fingers against the sweated back of his neck. "Not asking for anything in particular, Lieutenant."

"Oh, I think you are." She sounded deliciously aware and maybe, possibly, a bit interested in hearing more. Her tone had lifted lightly, drawn him in, gone hot and inviting.

_All in, Master Sergeant. Make the damn bet._ "But not anything complicated."

"Uncomplicated, huh?"

Well, that was bullshit and they both knew it. He also knew that he wanted her, and that it wasn't entirely one-sided desire. Neither of them were stupid. They both knew that any sort of relationship between them would be both sexual and emotional - they were too trapped up together by one accidental moment.

They wouldn't be able to separate the sexual from the emotional. Even if they were the sort of people who _could_ …

Hell, neither of them were that kinda person.

Didn't stop him from knowing what he wanted. Didn't stop the worst possible idea he had from also, simultaneously, being the absolute best idea he'd ever had. " _Exactly_."

They were pretty much doomed.

She was _entirely_ worth it.

She made a long and ached moan, sending it over the phone just before a huff of annoyance that nearly had him laughing his agreement at the sentiment. "Come home?"

He grinned and felt it in his cheeks, the movement broad and uncontrolled. He knew exactly how he would look to any observer and he just didn't give a damn. "You know I want to."

A ' _hmph_ ' came first, bemused and knowing, just before her heard her smile in her words. "I'll be around."

***

He hadn't called her in over a month and then ' _Baker's dead_.'

A two word text had stopped her in the middle of the produce section and she felt the whole room sway left and then jerk still. The fluorescent lighting seem to dim and the music went tinny and the woman who was nearing her from the other end of the fruits just gave her a bland look before turning her head.

Jack inhaled slowly through her nose, blinking as the other shopper walked by her, frozen as she tried to force her breathing even. She nodded and thumbed an answer slowly, purposefully pressing the buttons and probably harder than necessary.

' _Please call me._ '

The woman who had passed her had probably made it three or four aisles farther down before he answered.

_'Will call from Europe. Home in 48.'_

He was intentionally avoiding her voice. Or, rather, avoiding letting her hear his voice. She didn't blame him either way.

She knew near exactly what he was feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was short but tomorrow will absolutely make up for it. I swear.


	5. Five

Going home hadn't felt like an actual ' _homecoming_ ' in years and especially not since Shannon and Kelly had been killed.

It had been part of why he'd been so secretly smitten by her showing up the last time. She'd made it feel a little less lonely and while he wouldn't audibly admit to it, he wouldn't forget it.

"You're worried she won't show, aren't you?"

He _hadn't_ actually worried about that, not really. There hadn't been a question as to whether she would show up and especially not after he'd called her from Rota. Instead of brushing off the younger man's nervous joke he grabbed at the soldier's arm instead, giving it a swift tug by the sleeve.

"Hey, you need a ride?" he asked Patterson, voice even and quiet between them. "Sloane can probably drop you."

"No, thanks, sir," Gabe answered, stepping in as he got jostled from behind. They'd stopped too close to one set of doors and been trapped as soon as family members started flooding into the room. "Need the time to myself."

Patterson didn't have anyone coming, Gibbs knew as much. The kid's dad was stationed in Stuttgart and was twice as absent even when they _were_ in the same room. He'd never talked about his mother, not even with Baker. Gibbs doubted she was alive. Dead mothers were on the list of things he didn't like to discuss either. Dead mothers and dead teammates.

The other man cleared his throat suddenly, jerking his head toward the open double doors to draw Gibbs' attention. He turned his glance, watching her look for him in the crowd.

It didn't take her long to find him and he watched the entire evolution of her smile, from its near faltering beginning and right on to its full shine. He answered it honestly, giving as good as he got while she tucked her bag tighter into her side and stepped forward. The walk gave him a chance to look her over, more out of utter appreciation than anything.

He certainly appreciated the fit denim and leather boots, that was for damn sure.

"Hey, there," she said gently, voice warm and exuberant. Gibbs blinked, quiet as she reached out and caught against this sleeve with a pull. "You okay?"

He half shrugged, catching her fingers and giving them a light squeeze before releasing her hand. "Perfect."

The blush that painted itself across her cheekbones made her skin tone more pink than pale, highlighting her eyes as she met his glance. Caramel, bourbon, Jacqueline Sloane, every other delicious thing that color reminded him of...

"You look good."

Her smile flashed wider and more brilliant at his words, dazzling him. He just took the moment to send another glance down the length of her. There was nothing surreptitious about it, it was just him enjoying the freedom of the act, equally enjoying the close fit of her v-neck tee, the way she had tugged a loose button up over it and rolled the sleeves. Her watch was a size too big for her thin wrist and it drew his attention. His glance flicked from one of her hands to the next and he consciously tried to ignore the memory of them being tied together, small bones broken.

"Good to see you, ma'am," Patterson offered with a near chuckle at his side, his brows up as he gave Gibbs a smirk. He just blanked his features in response, avoiding rolling his eyes when Gabe laughed fully.

He knew he was being awkward. He didn't need the little shit drawing even more attention to the fact.

Jack let out her own half laugh, "You need a ride home, Patterson?"

The younger man sent a softly bemused smile between them at the accidental repetition and shook his head, "Naw, thanks, Lieutenant. I'll take the bus."

"Call me tomorrow," Gibbs said quietly, keeping how voice low, an order laced into the words.

"Sure," Gabe answered, though it didn't sound all that convincing. He didn't waste a moment before teasing Jack _just one more time_ , though. "I told Kress he had to salute you, ma'am. Don't let him off the hook."

She laughed and gave the younger man a half smack in the center of the chest and his brain instantly replayed her knee solidly connecting with Patterson's groin. He didn't blame the kid for playfully flinching away from her in response.

Gibbs felt his smile widen, the two of them coming back in closer as the crowd seemed to swell bigger around them. Thirty Marines coming home meant plenty of family crushing in on them.

He caught his subordinate's elbow, tucking closer. "Goodnight, Gabe."

"Night, Sarge."

He waited until Patterson had given them both a sad smile and turned away before he slid his hand against her lower back and stepped into facing her. He didn't verbally request the hug but he let his body ask for it, arm curling farther around her as his other hand lifted to touch against her stomach.

"You look…"

Her shoulders slanted back so that she could give him a dry smile. "There an end to that thought?"

"Not a decent one, _ma'am_ ," Gibbs admitted, letting his smile go wild when her eyes widened a little in surprise. He tugged at her lightly, purposely. "You okay?"

"Better."

"Yeah?" he questioned, ducking to make sure she didn't look away.

"Yeah," she shushed back, her eyes on her own movements as one of her hands lifted to fiddle with the open hem of his BDU, a button plucked between her finger and thumb. He didn't even care if she _was_ being intentionally aloof - mainly because her jitters were fucking adorable. She smelled like almond lotion and laundry soap, mulled warmth, sun-heat on fabric. "How about you let me take care of you this time, huh?"

He groaned when she tugged at his tags instead of the button and he reflexively swept her up into a hug, no warning as he slung her other arm up over his shoulder and buried his face in her neck. He couldn't stand the damn innocence of her, not without cradling her up and running his mouth down her jaw. "I really want a bacon double cheeseburger, Jack."

Her laugh struck bright and brassy against his ear, lips brushing just in front of it. "You got it, Marine. What else?"

"Cold beer. Steak and eggs for breakfast. A very hot shower. My own bunk." Mention of his bed had her lashes lowering as she leaned back, eyes going thin, lips pressing together.

"Those are all very reasonable requests, soldier." The fact she had his dog tags curled up in her fist was undeniably sexy to him and he let her tug him a little closer as she looked up.

His grin shot up between them. "Figured I'd save the unreasonable ones for later."

"Good plan."

***

The first time he really put his hand into her hair and dug sensually into the warm waves of blonde was while she was driving, her attention on the road ahead of her.

Her lashes fluttered but she forced her eyes open wide as he watched, exhaling a sigh as he stroked her hair back and leaned across the bucket seats to kiss behind her ear.

"Home," he hummed, nuzzling near her ear so that he could nick his teeth against her earlobe.

"Thought you wanted a burger."

Gibbs kissed the shell of her ear and heard her whimper, felt it between his legs as his thighs went tight. _Everything_ was tight suddenly, the seatbelt, his pants, his boxers. Her car seemed suddenly too small and confining, especially on a busy freeway.

"I'll order in," he promised, his other hand laying into her lap but unmoving. He left it there as an offer, palm up and fingers half curled. It took only half a breath for her to drop her right hand and catch it, closing their fingers together.

Gibbs kissed along her jaw, feeling her press their combined hands against her stomach while her other hand stayed tight on the steering wheel. His tongue flicked down her neck, mouth sucking against hot skin and making her finally fully moan into the quiet car.

"That sounded exactly like I thought it would," he told her, voice rumbling up the slope of her neck. "Do it again."

"I'm _driving_ ," she negated, squeezing his fingers between hers before she looked quickly over and back again. "You mean you've thought about it?"

He just grinned, lifting his head to study her profile from up close, catching the way the early afternoon light brightened the brown in her eyes. They'd gone caramel and soft, warmed by his teasing and the sun.

"Got a question for ya, Lieutenant Sloane."

"Yeah?" she asked, a smile twitching over her lips as he loosened their hands apart and stretched back in his seat. "What's that?"

"How many times today you think I can make you moan like that?"

Those bright brown eyes sparked and lashes fluttered as she gave him a grin, brow arching before she looked back to traffic. "Guess we'll find out."

"There's my Wildcat."

***

He felt her go taut, felt her shoulders lift away from him even as her hips drove downward. Just the way she frictioned forward in his lap made him groan, his hands caught as she pushed them away from the hem of her tank top. Gibbs blinked up when she whimpered but pulled his hands away without hesitation, his entire body freezing up.

"What?"

She shivered with anxiety, her hands pushing at his shoulders even as her fingers tightened against flexed muscle. "I just…"

"I've _seen_ it, Jack," he assured gently. "I know."

Her breathing heaved as she loosened her grip, letting her hands slide off his bare shoulders and down his arms. He watched her swallow down a gulp of oxygen, felt her hands search for his. Gibbs let her hold his fingers tightly while she studied his face, so many emotions wavering over her features that for a brief moment he questioned everything that had happened since the first day he'd seen her stateside.

"We can stop," he gentled, kissing her jaw softly as she sighed forward.

Jack just shook her head, squeezing his fingers before lifting them back to her shirt again. "I don't wanna stop."

He didn't answer beyond slipping up under the fabric and kissing her confident once again.

***

She didn't understand that her scars made her ten times sexier than any other woman he could have put flat to his mattress. They bothered her so much, made her so self conscious. Her guilt grew exponentially when they were mentioned, referenced, seen… He knew that they reminded her of everything she was trying to forget, but he saw them simply as proof of her impenetrable will.

He had always been impressed by her strength, grown unintentionally infatuated with it.

Still, she hid the scars from him, stretched back in the scent of fresh bed clothes and moaning. He teased his fingers inside her, thumb rubbing her clit mercilessly while her right knee rode against his hip and her right hand rasped down the back of his scalp. Her nails scratched at him and he near flinched when she dug against his neck, her jaw jerking up as she whimpered.

Her hand moved up and jerked him down, her kiss meeting his so hard that he grunted in surprise a second before her moan filled his mouth. He pressed her tongue with his own and she curled her limbs up around him as she whimpered in answer.

The way she drew him in tight made it harder to move his wrist, instead just stretching two fingers deeper into her and grinning as he slightly curled them. The long moan she made against his tongue had his stomach clenching and his cock twitched harder.

Her head fell back, breaking the kiss as she arched and jutted her hips up into his hand. The smile curving her lips was new. He’d seen shades of it maybe, when she had been nervous or self conscious or shy, even. But never so sweetly made and so sultry all at once, never before parted by a whimper so soft that it made his hand go suddenly still.

"Okay?"

Her eyelashes brushed flushed cheeks as she smirked to herself, pleased and sighing as his thumb rubbed ceaselessly at her clit. "You have really good hands, Gibbs."

Yeah? Well, she had the sexiest pelvic bones he'd ever fucking seen and he had the sudden unexplainable urge to run his tongue from one to the other.

"I appreciate that, Lieutenant, but this may be the only time I can say that my mouth does better work than my hands."

All the sassy playfulness went out of her smile as her eyes sparked and he felt her clench down on his fingers while her tongue slicked at her bottom lip. Both her hands lifted to caress his cheeks and he grinned, purposely smug as she studied his face with beautiful dark eyes. The movements of her hands were slow and precise before she caught him still and lifted her mouth.

She avoided his lips, surprising him by instead kissing above his eyebrow. "Prove it then, Marine."

Hell, he loved it when a woman told him what she wanted so directly.

It'd always made figuring them out way easier. "Yes, ma'am."

***

It didn't take long to get her to start coming in his mouth, her hips shuddering and heels digging into the mattress with abandon.

He barred his left forearm over her pelvis and pressed down hard as he kept going, listening to her whine out a sound that was half frustration and half angry pleasure. His fingers didn't slow as she shivered, rubbing her clit even faster, harder, his tongue drowning in the taste of her.

A taste he _never_ thought he'd know.

He very suddenly remembered the feel of her pressed close in that tiny fucking transport vehicle, her hands still bound, feet bare, and her face buried in his sleeve, light sensitive and scared.

She was so much more than that person had been. She had become infinite to him, encompassing.

She was a whole other world now, open to him and trusting more than he'd ever imagined she would.

He traded his mouth and fingers, attending to her clit with his lips and tongue, humming agreement to her moans. She went wilder as he slicked two of his fingers inside her and out, his movements rhythmic, repetitive, and hers growing less controlled as she cursed under her breath.

" _Yes_ , babe. Please?" Her sweet little ' _please_ ' had him sucking harder on her clit, thrusting his fingers deeper, telling himself to stand the fuck down and not come right alongside her.

Her thighs shook, her nails scraping his scalp as she let out a long and exhausted groan. Another strike shot entirely through her body, hips to shoulders, arching her back and making him grin. He didn't have to look up to know she was coming again. He just laid his tongue against her clit as she called out and enjoyed the happily uneven pulse and throb it gave him. After a moment he carefully slid his fingers out of her, feeling her flinch a little anyhow as he shifted.

His tongue soothed her for a few seconds before he felt her tug at his left ear, rubbing it. "Oh, _Jethro_ , you were right."

He laughed, pleased by the way she stressed his name, a hot breath left on the inside of her thigh that made her jump. "Condoms're in the drawer."

Her other hand fluttered up and then dropped playfully onto her stomach as he wiped his face on her hip. Her entire body had gone loose and lethargic beneath him. She was sated and limp and he was hard as hell. "I can't. You do it. I'm too weak."

"Naw," he chuckled, rising up over her so that he could enterprisingly lay his whisper just to the corner of her mouth. "You're the strongest person I know, Sloane."

She moaned her pleasure, turning her face to his and kissing him while he fumbled for a condom. Her hips shifted just slightly beneath his and he felt her twist enough to catch his length into slick wetness, a grunt coming off him and making her laugh into his mouth. He chastely kissed her and then lifted his head to find the goddamn condom even while she was rolling her hips, effectively sliding his cock closer to her clit. Getting the foil open while she was purposely being a (literal) cock tease was far more difficult than it should have been.

" _Romantic_ ," Jack accused quietly, answering his comment and obviously smitten. Her hand stroked his face while the other braced at the base of his cock and pressed hard. He exhaled a dragged hiss between his teeth as she held tight, unmoving while he rolled the condom on. "So many delightful surprises outta you tonight."

"Don't expect stamina to be one of them." Gibbs sat up just enough, balance on his knees and braced by her hand moving it from his cheek to his chest. He teased along her clit, up and down it, lower but not near where she wanted him. She nearly squealed her frustration but swallowed the sound in a huff. "I almost just came the same time you did."

The moan she made as he slid into her was so deliciously long and sensual, the exact sound he had expected but better by way of its sighing end. For a moment he just enjoyed her, the feeling of her, the trust and ease of her body beneath him. He appreciated the unlimited nerve it took to trust him with _everything_ physical - especially when she was otherwise so guarded, both in body and emotion.

His palms stroked her thighs as he waited, watching her arch her head back into the pillow with eyes shut. He gave her a nudge in the hips, jacked deeper before leaning back down and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"That's right, that's the sound I like to hear," he agreed as he lowered himself, kissing her cheek, her jaw. That was the sound he wanted to keep for himself, matched by the drawn whimper she made as he pulled mostly out and then back in.

Maybe he _was_ too much a romantic because, frankly, he didn't want her to share that with another man, _ever_.

She smiled as she rubbed her nose against his affectionately, curling her arms at his shoulders and arching to meet him. His weight went balanced on his forearms, one of his fists dug into her hair. "You're such a smug son of a bitch."

"You encourage it," he said and grinned, watching her lips part in surprise as he thrust hard. Her eyes fluttered closed as almost pain pinched between them, her mouth half open as she panted. His forehead met hers and he knew he wasn't going to last long at all, not when she was so slick and inviting and clenching tightly.

Not when she lifted a kiss to his mouth, her tongue pressing his before taking a swipe at his teeth. Not when she subconsciously swirled circles in the short trimmed hair at the back of his head.

Not now that he knew _for sure_ he was falling for her, scars and all...


	6. Six

"I'll leave early in the morning," she told him, doing her best to keep her voice controlled and even and not nearly as sad as she felt at the thought. It was a partial failure, she knew, trying to hide anything from him as he blinked up from beneath her.

She wasn't looking forward to his leaving, not again. The first time they had met it had been the one thing she'd asked him not to do...

_"... don't leave me here? Please?"_

His jaw firmed as he swallowed and she knew nothing she could say or do (even dressed only in his bedsheet) would change any of it. "I know."

She nodded in answer, left eyebrow lifted slightly higher than the other as she pulled up farther against him. Her elbow bent into the mattress beside him as she put her head into her hand. "So… if you wanna talk about - "

"I don't," Gibbs whispered, lifting his hand just enough to trace up her stomach, fingertips teasing a line up the front of bare warm skin. "I _really_ don't."

"You _really_ should." She knew he was listening despite the fact his eyes had drifted down her front, meeting the way he had lifted his fingertips up to run under the curve of her right breast. "I know what it's like, Gibbs."

Short trimmed fingernails skimmed back down her stomach and caught her hip, his other hand falling even to it on the other side. "And do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, but I do anyhow," she countered, arguing his stubbornness as she shifted, his hands guiding the slow stretch of her hips rising over his. She straddled him slowly, carefully, easing her weight against the tops of his thighs as his hands reached for hers. Jack frowned when he wouldn't let her tease at him, their fingers locked together tightly enough that she felt her knuckles roll between his as he squeezed.

"Anshiri was the sweetest one, the softest. Hale was a goofball and King was… he was so smart, so good with numbers." His face had gone flat as she'd reminisced, blanked and void of emotion.

_"It's okay."_

_"It's okay, Sloane."_

She'd never said their names to him before, never managed to breathe all three between them.

They had been her responsibility and also her failure. He had never known who or how many or… not even how.

"They tried to make me choose," she whispered, pressing her weight into their clenched fists and leaning forward. "I mean… they wanted me to pick who died first."

He slowly lowered her over him, lifting his head into her soft kiss as she got close enough.

_"It's okay, just do it."_

_"Just choose."_

Jack exhaled, eyes shut as she rested her forehead against his. "How do you choose?"

_"End this, Sloane."_

_"It's okay."_

"I couldn't get to him. They shot him in the head." Gibbs let his hands settle back into the mattress as he finally offered a response, shifting his hips so that she rode just slightly higher against him. "Baker. He never said a word. Just waited for it."

"Executions are made to make us feel helpless," she whispered. She felt his fingers shift, lacing their palms together again as he exhaled and let her curtain his face in her hair. "You didn't shoot him."

Just as she hadn't shot any of her sweet, smart, beautiful boys…

They were still dead.

_"It's okay."_

He turned his face into her neck to avoid answering, groaning as she settled her weight against him. His lungs rattled and he sucked in as much of the smell of her as he could before having to exhale. "I may as well have."

_She_ may as well have…

***

At least she kissed him goodbye for once, her palm flush to his cheek and tears in her eyes as she leaned over his messy bed.

He could taste the leftover salt of them on his lips as he laid still and listened to her car stutter to life.

She really should have let him look at it before he left.

That starter had gone to shit...

***

He'd left the States on a Thursday and by the following Tuesday she had texted to tell him she was moving out of Southern California.

It wasn't _entirely_ unexpected, not after the scared and silent goodbye...

Still, he didn't answer her for six days, no matter how often she texted or called, no matter how cruel it was to make her worry.

It was his turn to be the weak one.

Maybe it was his turn to be broken.

***

_"I think it's fair that the first time I've ever called drunk is after we've had sex instead of before."_

That didn't mean she'd regret the call any less and he didn't doubt that she had. None of her texts or other calls had mentioned it, not one. Obviously she didn't remember making the call. Or she didn't _want_ to remember making it.

_"I had to… to tell you."_

She hadn't just been drunk.

_"It's not just because you saved me."_

She'd been crying too…

He answered the next text.

***

"Thought you might call this past weekend."

"Oh, yeah?" Her voice sounded more surprised than he had expected.

"Figured you'd gloat. Army/Navy rout."

"Oh, no… Well, _yes_." Her laughter sounded more nervous than expected too, like she'd gone shy on him. But then they hadn't actually talked all that much since she'd left California. "But, actually… I just missed you."

_Miss you, Sloane_... Couldn't bring himself to say it, though. At least not when he was still a little stung by her desertion. "Heard about Texas. What the hell's going on?"

He didn't even have to close his eyes to see the confused and accusatory glare that accompanied her silence. He may have only known her for a couple years but he'd damn sure gotten close enough to see what indignation looked like on her pretty face.

" _How_? How did you - "

"Mike Franks." The answer had been purposely succinct, no quibbling. He wasn't about to apologize for checking up on her. Far as he was concerned she'd forfeited any surface rights to intentional distance and friendly privacy about the time she'd drawn his mouth between her thighs and moaned a long ' _Fuck. Yes, babe. Please_.'. She stopped having the right to tell him to shove off right around the time she'd scraped her nails up the back of his scalp and bucked against his mouth.

And he wasn't about to swallow her lone wolf bullshit. Not when she was obviously spiraling out of control. Road rage in Encinitas, bar brawls in Texas? She sure as hell never shoulda left California so suddenly - or alone.

When he still didn't get an explanation he continued. "I asked him to look for work for you and he did some digging before agreeing to it."

"I don't need - "

"You should call him. He's got a couple options," he interrupted, negating the argument she was about to make.

"You can stop taking care of me, Gibbs." The derision in her tone was less sincere than he had assumed it would be, more embarrassed, maybe. "I'm not your responsibility anymore. Just because - "

"We friends, Sloane? I mean - "

"Of course," she allowed, voice quick and veering almost defensive.

He took a breath in response, purposely calmed his nerves and softened the edge of his tone. "Then stop over analyzing it. Jesus Christ. It's just friendship. It's _loyalty_."

Quiet claimed the middling space between them, all the miles she had travelled in a direction opposite him suddenly seeming like a wall and a door at once. The distance she had created was the thing keeping them apart but also bringing them together.

Hell, she'd probably been right in leaving, not that he'd ever want to admit it. Her leaving had slowed them, kept them from imploding, saved them from ruining what they had.

"It's not just a little bit of pity?"

It had stopped being pity as he had watched them sew the scraps of her back all up together like a mangled patchwork, barely a sound out of her besides a few deep groans and hitched breathing.

He had never seen a stronger woman than the one on that hospital bed, mostly silent and wide brown eyes begging him to keep her secret.

"Sweetheart, I don't pity you. I like my balls unbroken, thank you," he chuckled, hearing her exhale hard in relief. "I _respect_ you, Jacqueline. There's a difference."

"God, I miss you," she whispered, the moaning lilt in the words giving a sharp tug on his resolve and his cock at once.

He could feel her skin under his fingertips and his empty hand flinched closed into a fist. "You know right where I am, Lieutenant."

"If I come back I'll never move forward. Can't you see that?"

He couldn't see anything straight, not when she sounded aching and sad and sultry at once. His eyes were shut and his other senses were frazzled as he focused on just listening to her breathing. "Yeah, I guess... Don't understand why moving forward means you have to be alone."

"I'm not ever alone - I always have you."

He hated that they both knew it was true.

***

Near ten months later and she'd been at the San Diego NCIS office, investigating some poor kid's apparent suicide and begging him to come by and distract her. 

He had offered her dinner or a drink, any diversion, all while under the blatant surveillance of the entire field office. 

He had taken her to dinner but she hadn't ended up having a single drink. 

She'd definitely used him as a diversion, though. Her perfume curling its way back into the corners of his house and settling in while she had jerked him closer and toppled them both back onto his mattress. 

"This gonna be us now? Long distance emotions, short range sex?" 

She arched her back as his mouth traced the curve of one breast. "Is that a complaint?" 

He wouldn't  _ dream _ of it… Not if it meant she would at least stay the night. 

He could still smell her nearby two days later and he didn't hear from her for months after.


	7. Seven

More than a few years after and it was a bum ankle and a deep graze to the left shoulder that finally knocked him out of rotation, putting him into recovery and temporarily benching him from his position as Team Leader. As much as it stung he had been the one to tell them that Patterson could handle the job while he was out.

It didn't feel temporary, though. Not when he didn't immediately receive follow up orders and return information.

Instead he got a phone call from the heart of the Navy Yard.

"You should retire."

Mike Franks had a brutal sorta way of saying ' _hello_ ' after a long while. It was generally rude or grumpy, almost always with a tone that could have been defined as irascible.

Gibbs had always loved him for it, for the pure honesty in it. Honesty and straight-forwardness had been exactly the things he had needed from Franks after Shannon and Kelly's murder.

" _You_ should retire, old man. You must be pickled or fossilized by now."

"My fossilization halted about the time you sent Ms. Sloane my way," the agent teased, the gruffness gone from his voice and replaced with what Gibbs could only assume was approval. He wasn't surprised that Mike liked her. She wasn't likely to pull punches or take the old man's saltiness. "That girl melts the heart _and_ the resolve."

" _Woman_ , Mike." The correction got a broad and full volume laugh from the older man, the sound of it clear over the phone line. "She's fully grown and independent."

"That she is. Full grown, I mean."

" _Mike_ ," he warned with a low growl.

Franks gave him a chuckle that was more endearing than he had expected it would be. He missed his friend. "Just gettin' your goat, Sarge. Why're you stateside?"

"Injury sidelined me. Just a graze." He shrugged without realizing it, wincing right after. "Sprained my ankle when I went down and my CO says I've been pushin' my luck on purpose. Thinks it's gonna push back if I don't get my head straight."

"Oh, yeah? He know that's near impossible?"

He should have known that telling Mike about his injuries would have her calling him within twelve hours, her voice concerned and wavering.

Once he'd calmed her down she had told him that Mike Franks _had_ retired after an ugly showdown with Navy brass.

The older man had never once mentioned it...

***

"What the hell are you - get _in_ here."

She'd gotten glasses since the last time he'd seen her (" _Three years_ ", his brain supplied, unhelpfully).

They were sexy as hell.

Especially with her hair wavy wild and nearly unkempt. She was still a wiry thing (still fit and toned and… _damn_ ), wearing tiny shorts and an Army tee that was about three sizes too big for her.

He instantly despised the man who had obviously owned it first.

"Jesus, you're soaked." There were lines on her face that hadn't been there before, crowding the corners of her eyes and the sides of her smile.

Another throb of jealousy volleyed through his hands, his forearms, annoyed that he had missed seeing her laugh so purely, so genuinely, so often. But then he never _had_ seen enough of her laughter to satisfy...

Gibbs blinked, lost to how sweet she still looked years later, distracted by her. "There's a storm."

Jack just snorted bemusement, nodding as she brushed water off his bag and onto the mat in front of her door. He dropped the duffel to the floor with a careless thump as she laughed. "Yes, as the entire Eastern coast is already aware. _Thank you_."

"You just gonna sass me, or…?"

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, fingers prying his jacket apart only to find a near equally wet triangle of cotton beneath it. "Or get you out of those clothes?"

"Thanks for the offer, ma'am, but I'm sorta shy around strange women."

"Shut the hell up," she laughed and slapped at the center of his chest, fingers catching quickly into damp fabric. Her eyes were bright bourbon beautiful, wide and happier than he'd expected. She laughed again as her other hand caught his jaw still so she could continue looking him over. "I never thought you'd come here."

"I wasn't going to," he admitted, admiring the blush on her cheeks as she started pushing his jacket down from his shoulders. "I like the glasses."

"Just, y'know, words were getting blurry. Lights at night were - " She shushed up suddenly, looking up at him from beneath her lashes as the blush deepened even further. Her cheeks went pinker than he ever remembered them really being while she tugged him from his sleeves, her breath exhaled through slightly parted lips. "You're not teasing me."

"Not at all. You look beautiful," he offered, letting her take the wet jacket. The sounds of the storm rumbled over them, unrelenting as she hooked his jacket beside one of her own. "I've gotta be at Norfolk in the morning. I was hoping - "

"Of course." Her hand reached out and he watched her pluck at the wet cotton around his neck before she gave him a sympathetic laugh. "Stay here. Want that in the dryer?"

He shook his head, not wanting her to fuss too much before he'd really even gotten through the door. He could deal - he just wanted her to relax. "How's the couch?"

"Better than it looks but I have a spare room."

Gibbs waved it off, half bending to grab up his bag and hook it over his shoulder. "No need."

"You're not tossing and turning on the couch all night. It's technically a loveseat and you're nine feet tall."

He didn't follow her, feet bolted to the entryway floor as he watched her, his smile half smug and half proud. She'd become much more than he'd expected her to be, so much brighter and… healthier. So wonderfully independent and gorgeous.

She looked more like the infinitely strong and sweet woman he'd always assumed she was… but now it was blinding, unencumbered by the things that had happened to her.

"You coming?" she laughed as he got caught unconsciously appreciating her bare calves.

He sank into the intimate smile she gave him, relieved and leaning forward into its pleased humor, enjoying it after years of its absence. Gibbs grinned back with a nod and watched how happy it made her, another slip of laughter coming between them. She turned back toward him before he even realized what she was doing, his hands catching on reflexively before his brain even did. She was excitedly wrapped around his shoulders an instant after she'd knocked the wind out of him.

"I didn't think you'd come," she repeated, hushed against his ear and more emotionally than expected. Her lips made a promising move toward his cheek, a kiss so lightly made that he got half dizzy when she squeezed suddenly tighter.

"When haven't I?"

***

It had been awfully cute, his assessment of where he'd end up spending the night. It had been very _wrong_ , but cute. Since the moment she'd grabbed hold of his jaw and searched the blue of his eyes… She obviously couldn't control herself, not when it came to him. She obviously couldn't keep her hands to herself.

"I didn't mean - "

"I know," she kissed recklessly against his mouth, the words pressing mumbled to his lips as he groaned. His whole body clinched her closer, hands suddenly grasping at the thin cotton of the shirt she was wearing. He had always made her feel small but in the most shielded and protected of ways. His body had been solid, constant, stable.

He had always been safe. Always sure.

And it had always been sexy as hell when his hands had crept up under the hem of her shirt.

"It's not Norfolk," Gibbs told her, stalling his palms up on her waist as he admitted to the deception. He waited in the quiet kitchen, held his breath, and then she felt him grin against her cheek when she wriggled up a little closer and sent her hips slanting the same angle as his. His hands slid lower and jerked her close, digging into the fabric of her shorts as he stepped her backwards and leaned her toward her kitchen counter.

"I know that, too. You think Leon and I don't talk?" she whispered, the words rushed as his mouth came after hers. He kissed her harder than expected but it was welcome, strong and comforting. His movements hadn't changed. His kiss was still exactly the same - still aggressive, possessive, but careful, curative.

"You know about the interview?"

"It's an offer," she corrected before moaning, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth travelled her throat, teeth just lightly nicking skin. His tongue followed and she shivered, drawing his knowing laughter up under the length of her jaw. Jack jammed a palm against his shoulder and shoved as a half-hearted punishment for his teasing. "That was Mike's suggestion entirely."

Gibbs lifted his head, slow kisses stacking up her cheek so that he could brush his nose just under her left eye, making her whimper. His hands went rising up her ribs, teasing hot skin with slowly increasing pressure.

"Old man still can't mind his own business?" he asked softly, nudging forward to get her to open her eyes again. He stepped into the movement and got her trapped against the edge of her kitchen counter.

"He just wants to see you happy, Gibbs," she countered, back arching under the fullness of his touch, the sweet familiarity of it. Her palms lifted to his cheeks, wiping down the slack and relaxed jaw while she studied his mouth. "He's not the only one, y'know?"

"Lookit me," he murmured, chin lifting to draw her attention upward even as he slid his thumbs back and forth just under her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra and he was absolutely aware of it, his glance darker than usual.

The storm in his eyes was twice as ferocious as the one that swirled around outside, pelting against her windows and sending the temperature up hotter by five or ten degrees.

Hell, actually, maybe that was just him…

"What?" Jack whispered, her fingers on his cheek.

"I get what you meant. When you left?" His voice went quiet, his nod achingly sincere. "Makes sense now."

_God_ , she just wanted him to stay, to go still and sanguine and love her from right up close instead of at a distance. She fought against the reflex beg that nearly escaped her lips, swallowing the urge to plead at him as he studied her face and smiled so boyishly sweet. There was a self-consciousness to his smirk that made her take a long breath to pause them, an awareness that said he knew more of what was going on in her head than she thought.

She didn't have to say anything to encourage him, she just had to close her eyes and relax her shoulders and laugh when his face dropped into place, mouth at her throat. "You're still incorrigible."

"Yeah? You're still short."

She yelped out another laugh when he grabbed her up, no warning, just hands and force and he was suddenly kissing her again before he'd even settled her onto her kitchen counter. Jack moaned, feeling the long sound leave her throat and press between their tongues as he fumbled her shorts open.

He answered by breaking the kiss, stubble grazing across her cheek as he whispered, "I know."

" _Now_."

"I _know_."

She laughed again, letting him draw her shirt up and off, his own following shortly after. Her hands stroked his chest, his shoulders, nails digging flushed skin as he mimicked the movement. It was only a matter of moments before he caught her in another kiss, teasing both nipples and flooding a whimper from her mouth to his. She pulled him in, legs spread to make room while she arched into the warm brush of skin on skin. He made a sound that she hadn't heard in ages, one she hadn't realized she had missed so thoroughly until it was groaned back between them again.

A smug smile curled her lips up as he lost his patience, his whole body suddenly more frenetic as he teased his hand down the front of her shorts, the other palm braced against the counter.

"We're burning that shirt." He was deliciously sexy leaned over her, his tone authoritative and broody, accepting no argument as he found no other fabric beneath her shorts. The rumbled sound that came all the way up his chest as he stroked her pelvic bone made her whole body arch for him. Heat cradled up deep in her gut, down lower, tensing her muscles. Heat snapped over her skin, lit her up like electricity in darkness.

He'd had her wet since he'd complimented her glasses but feeling his fingers get slick, hearing him groan his approval and appreciation?

She'd missed him so much. As a friend, as a safety, and… a partner. As one of the only men she could let really just touch her wherever he damn well pleased. One of the only men she wanted touching her. _The_ only man…

"It was a gift. I can't just… _oh_."

He rubbed his smile against her cheek as she stuttered quiet, his middle finger already inside her and her clit throbbing under the firm press of his thumb. "Can't what?"

"Son of a bitch," she exhaled hard, breath short and panted as she pressed her lips to his jaw. " _Fine_."

He didn't laugh, wasn't near as smug as expected, fingers and thumb teasing at her slowly, "I'll give you a better one, sweetheart, I promise. I have plenty."

She just melted into his hands.

***

She studied his face that night, laying on her side, bemused by the way her right hand had been appropriated by both his broad warm palms. His features had relaxed in his sleep, sharing the secrets of the years since she'd last seen him, tattling on the stress and frustration that he had allowed to pinch new lines between his eyes.

Laying on her side with one hand in both of his invariably led to her remembering a stringent white hospital room and an equally blinding pain that had contorted her body rigid, nails digging unintentionally into his skin.

Every bloody ragged line in her back had been cleaned, mangled and dirty tissue excised. With the debris removed, the blood drawn out, they had sutured and packed and padded.

Every line in her back had been another string of hope that she had tied to his resilience while staring into sea-blue beautiful eyes. He had never once shied away.

"You never should have come back for me," she whispered, the other hand rising to try and press out the lines that were forming up on his forehead.

He cleared his throat faintly before speaking, voice rumbling and eyes still closed. His face lifted into the steady pressure of her fingers, "Couldn't leave you behind."

"Probably should have."

He just grunted, digging closer to her and rucking up the comforter. "My choice, LT."

"Loving you has never been about the day we met." She said it so clearly and sincerely that he finally opened his eyes, focusing hard on her as he exhaled through his nose. "It's always been about all the days after."

" _Years_ , Sloane. It's been years now." The blue of his eyes had always made her weak when they disagreed on something, or when he was making a point that she didn't want to hear from him.

"I know," she allowed, fingers tracing along his hairline. His body shifted, head tucking into her touch as he dropped his mouth to her throat and stretched closer.

"M'not going anywhere. Always here for ya."

A sigh slipped between her lips, "We'll see this time, huh?"


	8. Eight

"You two know each other, I hear?"

Damn Mike for not being able to keep his fat mouth shut. Did he have to tell the world -

"I told him," Sloane offered honestly, her eyes meeting his with a softness that was bred entirely of familiarity. He was surprised by her near intimacy with him as she lifted a cup of coffee from the opposite side of the director's office. The shift of her body, the way she slanted her hips towards his as he took it and blinked in the face of her unexpected affection, especially in front of her boss... He was thrown just slightly off balance as the other man gave him a friendly smile. "Director Vance knows who you are."

Gibbs shrugged and waved a hand between them while he took the seat that Vance silently offered, "Sure, in relation to _you_."

"I've done some homework of my own, Gibbs." The director sat in the next chair at the table but casually turned it, letting his elbow rest on the tabletop while the rest of his body stayed alert. "Not that I don't trust Sloane's judgment."

"I know you," he answered Vance, unable to keep it swallowed down as Jack went back across the office to make herself a cup. The other man was so audibly familiar, even if the face didn't mean much the voice…

"We were partnered on three extractions. All Navy men in - "

"Camp Devil Dog," he supplied casually, pleased with himself for finally making the connection. The cup rose and he took a tentative swallow, testing the heat and taste. It wasn't the greatest coffee but it wasn't weak, either. "You were in Bagram too."

"I know plenty about you, Gibbs, and not just because Jack says you're a good guy." She made a taunting sound of supposed derision as she turned back in their direction, her teasing wink only visible to him. It sure as shit didn't help when she already had every inch of his skin seethed hot and totally aware of her. The pencil skirt wrapping her hips like a gift had been a shot fired first thing that morning. "Mike Franks had plenty to say, too."

"Yeah, when doesn't he?" Gibbs asked with a half grin, forcing himself to look away from the way her lashes lowered as she took a drink.

He hated that even watching her thoroughly enjoy her coffee had become inexplicably sexier to him.

Except that he actually loved it...

"You have a place here, if you want it."

His attention shot back to the other man, surprise lifting his brows as he met Vance's eyes. Confusion at the sudden offer flustered him slightly, distracting him as she grinned from over the other man's shoulder. "I'll seriously consider it, Director. Thank you."

***

"Heads up, Master Sergeant."

He caught the keys mid-air and just in front of his chest, feeling the shoulders in the suit jacket go tighter than he was used to with his BDUs.

His fingers rolled her keys around a little before he fisted around them, head lifting as she got nearer to him. The balcony hall was quiet in comparison to the squadroom below, at least three agents in the middle of some sort of discussion. Argument, rather. Because it was getting louder, more heated and volatile.

They were arguing over motives, at least that's what it sounded like before she leaned down beside him and spoke. "They need a leader. Someone strong, capable."

"Don't push, Jack." The sharpness of his response struck her whole body still and tight beside him and he instantly felt like an ass, half standing straight to drop her keys into his jacket pocket. "I'm not sure. It means retiring from active duty. Maybe teaching in the Reserves or something. I can't just - "

"I'm not going to pretend that I don't hate it when you leave, Gibbs. I'm selfish. I want you here. I want - "

"Do you?" he demanded, derision rolling off him as he shook his head and slumped forward again, elbows on the railing. "It's too fast."

"It's been _years_. Remember? You said - "

"Know what I said, Jacqueline."

The intensity in the argument below them seemed to mirror and strangely reflect the frustration of their own and he felt it make her more anxious, amplifying the tension between them. One of the younger agents a floor down near yelled at the other and it flicked so hard at his annoyance that he put two fingers between his lips and let off a whistle so loud she flinched beside him. The entire squadroom startled in unison, their attention snapping upward.

"Knock it off," he growled over the balcony, glaring not at the tallest looking of the three agents, rather the one showing the most bravado.

He could feel her beaming beside him as she lifted a more innocent palm, and made a shushing motion to the agents. They didn't seem amused by being scolded but at least they'd gone quiet, the agent nearest the stairwell the only one to still match his glare.

He didn't need to see her grin when she turned it on him, he could feel the full radiance of it without looking as she relaxed her hip beside him.

 _Jesus_... He had absolutely stepped right into her trap, completely just jumped into it. _Moron_.

"Would you like to meet them?"

What a sneaky little shit…

"Not yet."

"Okay," she said through a breathless laugh, the backs of her knuckles brushing the back of his hand just before she pressed herself straight. Gibbs turned his head into her movement while keeping the rest of his body still perched against the rail. "Wanna wait just a few minutes? I have to answer a couple emails and then I'll be ready to go."

"Yeah, okay."

"Feel free to referee if you get bored." Her hand waved toward the first floor as she pressed off of the railing with the other hand. "Or just observe."

He grinned and fully turned his head just in time to watch her start walking away. "Them or you?"

"Both? In that order?"

"Sweetheart, I've been watching you since we met," he shot after her, watching the way she swayed a little in response as her jaw turned toward her shoulder. Sweet Christ, she had his number…

He could see the impressive wideness of her smile despite the fact she kept walking toward her office, all tight skirt and high heels, head high. "Steady on, Marine."

***

"The tall one? Desk by the stairs. What's his name?" he asked later, letting his forearms press the newspaper flat as he watched her from across her dining table. She kept insisting he search for apartments using her laptop but he didn't see any harm in starting with the newspaper first. Even if she did tease the hell out of him for it.

He liked her sweet and soft teasing, it had an endearing permanence to it. As had everything since he'd stepped, rain-soaked, through her door. This time was… _different_ , somehow.

This time she had made a home for herself, one she'd warmly welcomed him into - and it was more inviting than he had expected.

This time she was _happy_.

Even while folding her laundry into neat piles across her dining table, the basket on the chair directly across from him, she seemed… content.

"The louder one?" She made a subtle movement, just barely shifting forward enough that when she stretched her fingers toward him she could trace against his temple for no explainable reason. He didn't need a reason. She could touch him whenever she liked. "That's Tony. He was Philly PD for awhile. Mostly ego and silliness but - "

"I'm not an investigator, Jack," he told her, a slant of self consciousness in his tone of voice.

"You're one of the most insightful and observant men I've ever met. Your ability to lead and engender loyalty from your subordinates is just as important." The argument had very obviously already been made in her head and possibly even practiced, rehearsed. "And I would say that even if I didn't have a truckload of complicated feelings for you."

Gibbs grinned despite himself, fingers stretching out to touch the soft and thin fabric of one of her shirts, its color pale but still so sunny a yellow that he wished he knew what it looked like on her. He had missed a lot in three years, let alone in the near decade since they had met. He felt the smile falter at the thought, the realization of how much time they had lost to indecision. "They really all that complicated?"

"Not as much anymore, no. I guess not." Her hands kept their rhythm, folding a pair of shorts that he was equally as interested in seeing her wear. "You're really considering it."

"Why else am I looking at apartments?"

"Because you're blind and don't know a willing woman when you see one." A hint was unnecessary but she chucked a rolled up pair of socks toward his head to emphasize her point anyhow. He slapped it away mid-air, half ducking as he chuckled and leaned down over the newspaper.

"I see her. I've seen her for a very long time now." He punctuated the argument by reaching out and tweaking at her hip, playfully stretching away as she tried to slap his hand off her. "Saw you down in that hole, didn't I? When you tried to rip my damn face off?"

She laughed and he was surprised by the lightness of it, considering. Laughter hadn't been the response that he had expected and it threw him off guard, caught his jaw up. It gave her the exact paused moment she needed to catch his chin and slip closer, thumb putting slight pressure on his bottom lip as she shifted so deep into his personal space that he leaned back in the dining room chair to give her room. Everything became suddenly slower, far more sensual than it had been. His entire body went on alert, just by the way a sigh slipped from her as his hand reached out and stroked down, fingers teasing the back of her knee.

Gibbs realized what she wanted a half second before she tugged his jaw higher and leaned over him, her other hand bracing on his shoulder. He couldn't help shift his hips to try and take some of the pressure off his groin as she gripped at his shirt, straddling him slowly. She ground down against him once she was settled and he caught his hands against the backs of her thighs, squeezing lightly.

His teeth pressed on the pad of her thumb and he knew it would draw her mouth down nearer to his. Warm lips slipped just past his as a calculated tease, drawing him in. "Stay this time?"

"Could say the same to you," Gibbs said, clearing his throat as she sidled closer in his lap. "You done runnin' from everything?"

The smile on her lips held the same sweet intimacy as the kiss she still hadn't given him. "Come home, Agent Gibbs. You have work to do."

When she said it… it sounded right. _Agent. Special Agent Gibbs._

It sounded a little like home, she still sounded like home.

But then he'd been using her as a guiding star for years without acknowledging it. And maybe that had been how he'd found her to begin with, though - drawn to her shine in the deep desperate dark.

He should have known when he had found her that he'd never _really_ turn his head and walk away.

***

He'd never rented an apartment, just bought a house instead. She had teased him about it, of course, accused him of not being able to do anything in stages, of always jumping ten steps ahead. He'd figured he'd had some settling to do, though. Especially if he planned to make a wide left turn on his career path - he wanted stability somewhere, security.

The first time he had seen the house he'd thought that it was exactly the sort of place that Shannon would have liked, too. It was safe and suburban, a cozy front yard and small porch, a backyard that Kelly would have adored. Shannon would have liked the spacious living room but hated the half kitchen. He'd instantly had plans for the basement.

The first time he saw it from the inside, though, was around nine in the morning and the sluggish sun had been lazy in early Spring. It had just finally slanted its way through all the glass, burnishing all the original wood, flaring light everywhere in a tint of caramel coloring on creamy walls.

He'd turned in the hall before going upstairs and instantly thought of Jacqueline and the way the sun could glint her eyes more copper.

"You hear me, Marine?"

"Sorry, no," he shook off, lifting his head so he could watch her on the basement landing. He waited out her quiet, shrugging as she exhaled. "What?"

Jack smirked and her eyes wandered over him before motioning behind her, "Tim is up here and needs some one-on-one ' _Dad_ ' time."

"You really gotta say it that way?"

She simply blinked and leaned her hip against the bannister, head cocked and brow arched. "You'd prefer I called you 'Daddy'?"

He was pretty damn sure that was a rhetorical question. Hopefully.

"I'm his boss," he grumbled, trying to keep his voice low but still audible. "Not his father."

"You're a surrogate for his purposely clueless and absent father but you say 'tomato'," she waved off, while still leaning on the rail. "Want me to send him down?"

Gibbs shook his head as he dropped the tools from his hands and into the center of the boat frame, using the break of his palm to scuff his safety glasses up and back into his hair. He felt her watching him, her body relaxed and comfortable against the rail as he got to the bottom step.

"There's nothin' he can't say in front of both of us." He took the stairs quickly, stepping up into the way she was happily leaned his way and smiling. Her eyes were bright from the light in the laundry room, the door to the basement wide open and creating a halo glow behind her.

"That's sweet but I think he just needs you."

He stepped up into her space, his arm catching at her waist as he leaned over her. She couldn't seem to help herself from smiling, even as she played at looking bored. "I ever tell you how pretty this house looks on you?"

"It would look prettier with more storage upstairs and - "

"A better dining set," he interrupted and kissed hard against her, chuckling as she gave up a quick whimper of a sound and caught his hoodie up in her fingers. "So I've heard. _Repeatedly_."

"Get outta here." Jack shoved at him playfully and he grinned as she smacked soundly against his butt. He laughed and headed through the door, narrowly ducking the second swat that was heading his way.

The sun was just setting through the deep dining room windows as he searched out his subordinate, the room flaring into that warm caramel color that settled his heart, his head, reminded him of her.

They were at home there, in that place and that moment. Where the sun and wood came together in warmth, heat, where the light tipped through the windows and brightened the sound of her laughter as he winked back at her and grinned…

They were finally home.


End file.
